Michael, Row The Boat Ashore
by SqueakyTheDuck
Summary: Chet goes fishing in a raft on the ocean and drags Mike along with him. What could possibly go wrong?


"You sure about this, Chet?"

"Of course I'm sure, Mike. Look, I wouldn't be taking this thing out onto the ocean unless I was sure it was safe."

Mike eyed the shabby wooden raft, then turned back to Chet. "That's what I'm afraid of."

How had he let himself get dragged into this? He thought back to the day before.

Chet had come bouncing into the station, talking excitably about how he'd built his own raft and was going fishing on the ocean and would anyone like to come with him?

Everyone else had a reason they couldn't go. Mike had been unable to think of anything, and Chet had stared at him pleadingly with those puppy-dog eyes…

And now the two of them were standing on the beach in their swim trunks, preparing to go out on the ocean.

"This raft," Chet continued "Is constructed of a very strong, buoyant type of wood. It's impossible to sink it."

"That's what they said about Titanic." Mike retorted.

"Very funny." Chet said. "Do you know what I used to hold this baby together?"

"Duct tape?"

Chet glared at his friend. "_Nooo…_I used something even better. It's a secret formula. I made it myself. Now, are you ready to help me launch this thing?"

"Sure, but do we have to be on it?"

Chet sighed. "You're impossible, Mike."

"We should at least wear life vests." Mike pointed out.

Chet shrugged. "What for? We're both strong swimmers. You don't wear a life jacket when you surf do you?"

Mike shook his head. "No, but I think it's required if we're on a boat." He pulled two orange life vests out of his backpack and passed one to Chet.

"I can't wear this!" Chet exclaimed. "It'll clash with my swim trunks."

"That's because you're the only person who would wear bright purple swim trunks." Mike replied deftly. "Here, put this on first." He passed a bottle of sunscreen to Chet.

Chet waved him off. "I don't need that." He insisted. "I never get sunburned."

"Uh, okay," Mike said doubtfully. "If you say so." _I hope he's right. _He thought as he applied the sunscreen to himself. _He_ wasn't taking any chances.

Sunscreen taken care of, he pulled on his life vest and began fastening the straps. Chet reluctantly followed suit, whining about how the colors didn't match. Mike had to admit, the purple and orange _did _look funny. Mike's life vest, on the other hand, looked just fine with his bright yellow swim trunks.

Finally ready, the two men pushed the raft closer to the water. Chet climbed onto it. "Okay, Mike," he instructed. "Now you push the raft out into the water, then get on once it gets going."

"How come?" Mike protested. "It's _your _boat."

"Because I'm smaller than you." Chet replied. "And you're stronger."

Mike shook his head and started pushing the raft. Chet was right, of course. Mike was taller than Chet, and he had a stronger build. Captain Stanley had once referred to Mike as a dolphin—big, powerful, with the potential to be aggressive, but gentle by nature.

The way things were starting out today, Mike had the distinct notion that he would be feeling pretty aggressive towards Chet by the end of the day.

As he felt the current take over, he briefly considered not getting on it, sending Chet out on the ocean alone and letting him fend for himself. But he thought the better of it, knowing Chet's ability to get into trouble without trying.

So he climbed aboard anyway. "Now, see?" Chet said smugly. "That wasn't so bad. It's nice and peaceful out here."

"I hear sharks like peaceful water." Mike replied offhandedly, kneeling in the raft across from Chet.

Chet ignored the remark and laid back. "You tell me when we get a little farther out." He instructed. "That's where there's more fish. In the meantime, I'm going to relax." He shifted uncomfortably inside his life jacket. "But first I gotta take this thing off. I'm startin' to sweat and this thing's stickin' to me."

He pulled off the life vest and set it beside him.

"Put it back on, Chet." Mike said firmly. "Remember, I outrank you."

"Ah ah ah," Chet wagged his finger smugly. "You only outrank me when we're on duty. And besides, this is my boat, as you were so quick to point out. So that means that, out here on the ocean, I'm a captain. Sort of. And you're my first mate. So even out here, you're still second-in-command."

"Don't worry." He said irritably, noticing Mike's disapproving look. "I'll keep it nearby." That said, he lay back against the 'deck'.

Mike shook his head and resumed his task of digging through his backpack to find the book he'd brought. At last he found it and began reading, making sure to keep an eye on their surroundings as well.

Within a few minutes, his stomach began growling. He reached into Chet's bag, where there were two sandwiches, one for him and one for Chet. Mike pulled out one of the sandwiches and quickly devoured it.

After about half an hour, he became distinctly aware of loud snoring. He looked up to see that Chet had fallen asleep. Worse, Chet had also acquired quite a sunburn.

Mike sighed. He reached across the raft and nudged Chet. "Wake up, Chet. We're farther out."

Chet opened his eyes and groaned. He put a hand to his stomach. "Ooohh…I don't feel so good. I feel seasick—ulp." Chet turned quickly and leaned over the side of the raft, losing his breakfast.

Chet sat up again, looking very green. That combined with the bright red sunburn made him look oddly like a Christmas tree.

Chet laid back and groaned. "I don't think I'll be eating anything today."

Mike wordlessly opened the sack, pulled out the other sandwich, and ate it himself. He then began digging through the sack for one of the bottles of root beer they had brought.

Chet raised his head. "You're not feeling very sympathetic today, are you?"

Mike looked up. "Seeing as this insane adventure was your idea, then no,"

Over the course of the next hour, Chet became seasick at least three more times, and Mike drank both bottles of root beer, ate both chocolate chip cookies, and both bags of chips.

Chet raised his head after yet another round with his stomach and glared at Mike, who was licking the salt off his fingers.

"I hate you." Chet grumbled.

"If you're done throwing up, why don't we actually do some fishing." Mike said dryly.

"Sounds good," Chet replied weakly. He looked around the small raft. "Hey, where are the fishing poles?"

Mike dropped his head into his hands.

"I coulda sworn I put 'em on the raft." Chet insisted.

Mike rubbed his temples

Chet looked out across the water. "Hey, where are we?"

Mike wanted to scream.

Before Chet could go any further, he felt the need to lean over the side of the raft once again. It looked like it was up to Mike to get them home. At least Chet had remembered the oars.

Mike reached into his backpack and dug out the compass that he had brought. He had had a feeling that he would need it.

Within seconds he had established their direction. He grabbed the oars and began paddling.

Chet groaned. "Why are we moving?" he asked miserably.

"Would you rather stay out here until the helicopter shows up looking for us?" Mike shot back.

"With my luck," Chet answered. "I'd get airsick."

He laid down and closed his eyes again. "But do we have to go so fast?"

"Do you want to get home?" Mike fired back.

"Probably as much as you do." Chet admitted.

Mike continued rowing, and within an hour the shoreline became visible. "Look up, Chet." He said.

Chet looked up and gave a whoop of delight when he saw the beach coming into view. He quickly regretted this as his stomach protested the movement and he once again retreated to the edge of the raft.

At last the raft pulled up on the beach, and Chet scrambled onto dry land as fast as he could. Mike followed suit. "I am going home." He said irritably. "And I am going to try to forget that today ever happened."

"You and me both." Chet agreed, scratching furiously at his back and arms. "Something is making me itch like crazy!" he exclaimed.

This caught Mike's attention. His knees had been itching since kneeling in the raft. "Chet," he asked. "Just what did you use in that secret formula anyway?"

"The stuff I used to hold the raft together?" Chet replied. "Nothing special. Just superglue and some kind of extract from a plant I found when I went hiking last week."

Mike sighed. "Did it have three leaves?"

Chet nodded. Mike wanted to strangle him.

As they drove home in Mike's dune buggy, he glanced over at Chet, wondering how one man could get into so much trouble.

_I guess I'll never know._ He thought. But one thing he did know was that he was _never _getting involved with one of Chet's schemes _ever_ again.

And try as he might, he absolutely couldn't remember where he had heard that annoying little tune that kept running through his head.


End file.
